


A God with No Name

by Ghanima_Starkiller



Series: Dune series [4]
Category: Dune (1984), Dune - All Media Types, Dune Series - Frank Herbert, Frank Herbert's Dune (2000)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 07:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghanima_Starkiller/pseuds/Ghanima_Starkiller
Summary: Written for Porn Battle 2017, prompt words: devoted, lips, touch, entwined, forever





	

"Tell me what you dream of, Usul." 

Paul and Chani lay entwined, naked, her fingers wound through his, their bodies pressed to one another. The night-flowers bloom in the desert; Paul has named the sweetest of them all for his true wife. 

He knows, intrinsically, that China does not mean, What does Maud'Dib dream of? She knows the answer to that is rain in the desert, and all set right. Justice. She does not mean, What does Emperor Paul Atreides dream of, because she knows the answer to that as well. He dreams of conquer, even as he at the same time lies restless with nightmares of lives lost in his name in jihad. She does not even mean, What does Usul dream of? Though that is what she says. She knows the answer to that as well, and that is for their future child to be safe and happy, for his friends and sister to be fulfilled and always protected. Or what does the Kwisatz Haderach dream of. Emperor, savior, god. 

She means him, the real him, the one who has no name. Chani has always known him, the, the secret him, the one who must always hide, when he was son and heir to the duchy, now when he is looked upon with reverence. Always, his wife, his lover, his soul mate, wishes to know him. 

"To be at home in my own skin," he says, as he gives her a tender squeeze. "To have no name, or perhaps to know my real name." 

She asks no questions; she understands. Instead, she kisses him, comforting and soft. She doesn't need to use words, knows that they cannot hold him, soothe him, as deeds can, words cannot love him as deeds can. 

She makes him hard with her mouth first, kissing, sucking along the column of flesh as the velvet skin loses its slack and the shaft grows and tautens. She tastes his rising excitement on the salty drops that come from his manhood's crown, and she mounts him, straddling his hips, rising and falling. She is already wet from their play before, with moisture that Paul calls the most precious of all. 

She steadies her hands against his solid chest, eyes meeting his as she rises and falls over him, her sheath tight around his shaft, the wetness of her making purely pornographic sounds as her sex sucks at him, takes him in again and again. As her rhythm increases with each soft gasp that leaves their lips together. His hands are on her full breasts, caressing, pinching tenderly at her large, dusky nipples; each tweak sends a jolt down into her already tightening belly. 

She is bold, she always has been. Her gaze never leaves his, as if she's challenging him. They move faster and faster together, in tandem, their bodies slapping against one another wetly. At last, she throws her head back, her entire body clenching, convulsing around him. He follows her climax with his own, seed splashing white-hot inside, running down the insides of her muscular thighs. 

And she slips to his side again, wrapping arms around him, kissing, tongues entwining. "You," he murmured against her mouth, making her smile; he nuzzles sweetly, lip-to-lip. "I dream of you, my beloved. Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle 2017, prompt words: devoted, lips, touch, entwined, forever


End file.
